


A fox chased by dogs

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Largely fluff, M/M, OMC is kind of a douch (sorry Danny), Plot-lite, a lot of smut, also awkward, and maybe a little cute, because kissing is fun, lots and lots of awkward, most of the other canon characters are just cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny and Stiles are almost killed by werewolves. In the euphoria of surviving Stiles may have crossed a line. Little plot, little angst, mostly smut, fluff and baked goods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, my first fic in this fandom so be nice - also comments on characterization totally welcome.
> 
> The title comes from the [best song in the world](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VerK4zwMRQw) which really needs to be a Teen Wolf anthem.
> 
> There will be ~~7~~ **9** chapters and I'm posting them once a week on Fridays (hopefully).

Stiles grabbed Danny’s wrist and ran down the hall, pulling the taller boy after him. He cut down a narrow passage to the gym, just avoiding catching his shoulder on the lockers which lined the corridors. From the clanging and swearing behind him, Danny hadn’t been so lucky. Stiles could hear Danny shouting questions at him, but he didn’t even bother to interpret them. He just ran.

 

From the moment he’d seen two sets of glowing red eyes peering out from the art room, Stiles had sensed that the afternoon was not going to be very fun. He’d begun slowly backing away, hoping he hadn’t been noticed and aiming for a particularly shadowy hallway where he knew he’d find an unalarmed fire door. On his third backward step, he came up against something solid, warm and annoyed.

‘Stiles,’ Danny had all but shouted, ‘what the hell, dude? Watch where you’re going!’

Stiles spun around and found himself looking up into a pair of liquid dark brown eyes framed by aggressively downward-pointing eyebrows.

Then he heard a door open behind him, and a noise halfway between and shout and a howl echoed down the hall.

‘I mean...’ Danny began, but Stile reached out with his left hand, locked his fingers around Danny’s right wrist and ran, dragging the surprisingly heavy Danny along with him.

Danny, bruised and swearing and unable to get his arm free followed Stiles as he cut through the teachers’ lounge and down through the hall by the principal’s and vice-principal’s offices. Loud thumping noises, mixed with shouts and growls dogged their heels.

As Stiles dragged him towards the gym – whipping him into lockers at every corner – Danny took a quick look behind him to see who Stiles was so afraid of. His brain couldn’t quite parse what he saw, but the glowing red eyes, claws and teeth convinced him that Stiles probably had the right idea and it made more sense to run with him than fight against him.

At that moment, Stiles took a sudden right turn through a swinging door and nearly pulled Danny’s arm out of its socket in the process. The two of them stumbled, as quietly as they could, into the Beacon Hills High School girls’ locker room. Stiles didn’t even look around, he just continued running, dodging around benches and open locker doors heading towards the showers.

Some part of Danny’s mind quietly observed how very similar the girls’ locker room was to the boys’. The same pine benches and dented, grey-painted lockers broke the space up and made walking – let alone running – a hazardous prospect. Piles of old uniforms and deflated basketballs lined and walls and graffiti liberally peppered the peeling white paint. Danny wondered about this graffiti – he was moving too fast and too erratically to read any of it, but would it read like the doggerel in the boys’ locker room where crude drawings of naked women (invariably given teachers’ names) and penises vied for space with unlikely boasting about sexual conquests and vile calumnies about other boys’ mothers? Somehow Danny doubted that his female classmates were any more couth than the male ones, but perhaps their spelling was better.

As this thought ran through his head, he finally saw where Stiles was dragging him. The girls’ locker room connected directly to the basketball court by way of the coach’s office. Ms. Janey, the coach of the Beacon Hills men’s and women’s teams since at least the Stone Age, famously inhabited an office with a backdoor. She habitually lurked there during lunch hour and school dances in order to catch students sneaking out to their cars instead of going to their afternoon classes or smoking or doing other, more athletic things in the seeming privacy afforded by the towering brick wall of the windowless gym. Ms. Janey had even caught Danny there once with his tongue down the throat of a female classmate. He was fourteen and experimenting and it seemed like a more interesting prospect than swaying rhythmically to the bad pop music being played inside. Although he would never have let her know, he was actually grateful for the interruption. This feeling as much as any other led Danny to cycle over to his best friend Jackson’s place the following day and come out to him.

Stiles, still not letting go of Danny’s wrist, threw himself against the flimsy pine door of Ms Janey’s office and was rewarded by it swinging inwards with a crack and a groan. The noises behind them had grown quieter as they ducked and wove through the locker room, but Stiles didn’t slow down for an instant. He ran to the fire door in the far corner of the office and slammed into the push bar. The door flew open and he and Danny ran out into the fresh air and warm sun of early summer.

Stiles stuck close to the wall of the gym and headed straight for the student parking lot. He knew that if the alphas had left anyone outside, he or she would most likely be watching Stiles’ blue jeep, but he also knew that he and Danny stood no chance at all if they ran into the woods with two alphas on their tail.

They were around the corner and out of sight when he heard the fire door clang open and smack into the brick wall. No Tall-Dark-And-Scaries seemed to be lurking among the few scattered cars left in the parking lot at this time of day. Stiles had only returned to school because Scott had texted him and asked for help with something. He hoped, desperately, that it wasn’t actually Scott who texted him, because if it were then Scott probably wouldn’t be needing any more help from Stiles ever. Stiles shook this thought out of his head and kept running, focusing on forcing air into his burning lungs.

The jeep was parked close to the school in the front row where the teachers and handicapped kids usually parked. As they approached the car Stiles dug his keys out of his pocket and found the jeep key by touch. He slid to a halt by the passenger door and slammed the key in the slot, unlocking it quickly before wrenching it open. He dove into the car, still dragging Danny after him and risked a look over his shoulder. So far, so good – maybe the alphas were checking out the woods. Or maybe they had returned to the front of the school to block the exits.

Finally letting go of Danny’s wrist, Stiles climbed over the gear box and into the driver’s seat. Danny pulled the seat belt over his shoulder and slammed the door closed and locked it while Stiles threw the car into reverse and whipped the jeep around. Danny gripped door with right hand and looked out the window at the school and woods behind them. His glance fell down and he saw a bright red imprint of Stiles’ fingers and thumb around his wrist.

‘wh… wh… what… was that?’ he stuttered.

Stiles didn’t respond, just pushed down on the accelerator and sped up. He wasn’t heading for the parking lot exit.

Stiles pointed the jeep away from the exit and towards the playing fields on the far side of the parking lot. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and the shot like lightening over the cracked tarmac, and around the various rusted and bumper-stickered cars which still languished in the parking lot. One of these, he supposed, was Danny’s. Stiles glanced to his right, but Danny was still frozen staring out the passenger door window at the school receding behind them. He hadn’t noticed yet where they were headed.

‘Hold on’ Stiles said as he pressed even harder on the accelerator and pointed the jeep directly at the curb. The jeep bumped upwards climbing, but Stiles kept his hands firmly on the wheel. He pulled hard to the left and the jeep fishtailed slightly in the grass as it turned to point directly at the soccer field. The gates were open because of the game later tonight and Stiles drove headlong towards them. Danny gripped the door even harder, making his knuckles turn white. He opened his mouth to say... something... but no sound came out.

He looked at Stiles whose own knuckles were white as snow on the steering wheel, but the other boy didn’t take his eyes off the grassy path in front of him. He drove onto the soccer field without even slowing down and headed towards the opposite corner where another gate led onto a paved driveway. They flew over the grass and Danny was sure that in a few hours when Beacon Hills and their rivals showed up for the annual end of year scrimmage they’d find two long, parallel gouges—just the width of a jeep’s tire—running the length of the field.

The jeep jounced again as it sped off the grass and onto the smooth pavement driveway. Stiles glanced in the rear-view mirror but no one seemed to be following. He allowed himself to relax, but only slightly, as he turned left onto School house road and then followed his usual, familiar route. Ten minutes later, he screeched to a halt in his own parking lot. He yanked on the emergency brake, turned off the car and dove out his door before running around to unlock the passenger door and let Danny out.

‘Fast!’ he shouted at Danny as he grabbed again for the taller boy’s wrist. Danny pulled back slightly this time and Stiles found his fingers closing around the other boy’s hand. He gripped tightly, interweaving his fingers with Danny’s and pulled him out of the car and towards the front door. It took only a few moments to unlock the door, dive inside pulling a newly struggling Danny with him and then slam it shut again behind them both.

Stiles grabbed his phone out of his pocket and shot a quick text to Derek and Scott, “Two alphas at school. Hiding at my place with Danny. Send help!”

When Stiles looked up from his phone, he saw that Danny’s eyes were wide with panic and his breath still came in gasps. ‘What are you doing? Why are we stopping? Those... _things..._ might still be coming!’ As he said this, he slid his hand out of Stiles’ grip and pivoted towards the door. Stiles, gasping saw Danny reach for the door knob and threw himself at the taller boy slamming them both into the wall beside the door.

Using his body to hold Danny in place, he looked over his shoulder and saw that the door was still closed, Danny hadn’t even gotten his hand on the knob to turn it. Stiles lifted his hands to the front of Danny’s shoulders and pushed him hard against the wall. He stepped back slightly so he could look up and into Danny’s face.

‘Mountain ash,’ Stiles said calmly, ‘it’s in the door frame and all the windows. It means that those,’ he swallowed, ‘werewolves can’t get in.’

‘Werewolves?’ Danny asked. His pupils were so dilated from the panic that his eyes were nearly black and his cheeks were flushed pinker than his bronze skin usually showed.

‘Werewolves.’ Stiles answered calmly. ‘Really nasty ones.’

‘And the... umm...’

‘Mountain ash?’

‘Yeah, the mountain ash, that will keep the… werewolves... away?’ Danny asked, his voice slowly returning to its normal register.

‘Yeah,’ Stiles said, ‘it keeps them out. Even Jackson and Scott can’t get in here now.’ Stiles said, dropping his hands from Danny’s shoulders.

‘Wait. Scott’s a werewolf?’ Danny asked, leaning back against the wall trying to let it all sink in.

‘Um. Yeah?’ Stiles said, his voice rising as if it were a question.

Danny just stared back at him. Suddenly Stiles mouth flashed open into a wild grin and he jumped in the air pumping one fist. ‘We survived!’ he shouted. ‘Bastards didn’t catch me this time!’ He spun around in a circle, stopping to face Danny with a slightly crazy gleam in his eyes.

He bounced forward towards Danny, and put his arms on Danny’s shoulders again, pressing him back into the wall. Then, without thinking about it at all, he rose up on the balls of his feet and pressed his lips against Danny’s, kissing him hard.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice the chapter count has gone up. I thought it was 7, turns out it wants to be 8.

Danny’s brain was still stuck on werewolves—and Scott... a werewolf?—when he became aware that his mouth and hands were going about something far more pleasant.

Without even being aware of it, Danny had lifted up his arms and wrapped them around the warm, squirming person who was kissing him. His right hand stroked up and down the boy’s neck and into his short brown hair while his left had snaked around the boy’s waist pulling him closer. The boy, Stiles, was kissing him roughly, but not without skill and Danny’s lips had parted to let his tongue in. Danny felt sparks when their tongues touched and he used his teeth to nibble gently on Stiles lower lip. Stiles moaned lowly and Danny felt a hot current run straight from his lips to his groin. He flicked his eyes open and the incongruousness of Stile’s face so close to his shocked him into breaking off their kiss.

He let go of Stiles and gently pushed him backwards. Stiles looked up at him expectantly, his cheeks flushed, his pupils dilated and his parted lips bright red and glistening. Danny’s eyes caught on his lips, slicked wet from their mingled saliva, and he felt another jolt of heat run through him. He forced his eyes upwards to connect with Stiles’ own and he said, roughly and with a trace of anger, “What. The fuck. Was that?”

Stiles glanced away, then dragged his eyes back to Danny’s and said, defiantly, “that’s what you do, right?”

“What _I_ do?” Danny parroted back sarcastically.

“No. Well yes... I mean, no....’ Stiles stuttered, “I mean that’s what you do when you survive a deadly situation and you’re with someone totally gorgeous. Right?” he squeaked.

 _Totally gorgeous_ Danny’s mind echoed. He shook it off and stuck with sarcasm, “so this is part of the whole werewolf thing, then? You go around running away from these... things... and then you just snog? Is this why you and Scott don’t hang out with the Lacrosse team after practice any more?’

‘No...’ Stiles started, ‘I mean we do spend a lot of time running away from... things... and sometimes towards them...’ he trailed off for a few moments before looking back up a Danny who was leaning back against the wall again. “But I wouldn’t just kiss _anyone_ ”

“Oh, well, thank you for not classing me with everyone else in the world... but seriously, Stiles, what the fuck?”

“Um. I guess with Lydia dating Jackson again I...”

“Oh great,” Danny snorted, “with Lydia taken you’ve given up on all women. Is that it?”

“No!” Stiles said. He looked away again, “I’m doing this all wrong.” Stiles looked intently at the floor for a few seconds then began again. “So, um, with the whole... werewolf... _thing_ , I’ve been spending a lot of time around some pretty, um, ripped people, er, werewolves, who look like people – most of the time... except when they’re angry... or fighting... or it’s the full moon.... Anyhow, it became... apparent... that it wasn’t just the lady werewolves who were, um, catching my eye?” He finished on a squeak.

Danny looked at him with a spark of interest in his eyes. “Does this have anything with that hot guy you had in your bedroom last fall – the one you tried to tell me was your cousin Miguel?”

Stiles kept his eyes on the ground and blushed. “That’s, um, Derek Hale” he mumbled. “He’s the one in charge of Scott’s pack – he’s the alpha. And, um, yeah, I started noticing Derek and then Isaac too a little and Erica—wow, Erica—but...’

Danny cocked his head to the side, “but?”

Stiles pushed the words out so quickly they almost jumbled together into meaninglessness, “but I thought it was maybe just the wolf hormones. You know?’ Stiles glanced up, but Danny just stared, so he continued, “but then, when Lydia and Jackson got back together and it was really obvious I never ever stood a chance I started thinking and I started... noticing... other people too, not just werewolves, but, um, other _human_ guys. Like, you know, you?’ Stiles squeaked again, blinked rapidly and looked away.

Danny just blinked at him for a few minutes before saying, carefully, “so... are you saying you’re gay?”

Stiles blushed again, then swallowed and looked up, “Bi, I guess?” he squeaked. “I mean, I still think about girls... that way... but, um, I think I have other options and,” he quirked one corner of his mouth upwards slightly, “some of them have stubble.”

Danny shut his eyes a moment. Werewolves were one thing, but Stiles Stilinski a bisexual? Some shit was just too unbelievable to be real life.

To cover for his confusion, Danny stuck with his old friend sarcasm, “And you kissed me because you’ve decided you’re _bi_ ” He said the word in scare quotes, “and you, what? Wanted to experiment? Wanted to test it?”

Stiles looked down again, then stared over Danny’s shoulder at the wall. “No. I, um, I just got a bit carried away and, I... well... like I said you’re totally gorgeous. I mean,” he said shifting his gaze to Danny’s face, “I think you’re totally gorgeous.”

Stiles said this like a challenge, and Danny, being a competitive athlete, could never ignore a challenge. He stood up straight, pushing himself off the wall and stepped forward into Stiles’ personal space, crowding him slightly. “So I’m _totally gorgeous_ am I?’ He said with a tinge of sarcasm, but also with a smile. Stiles held his ground and nodded, cheeks flushing. “And you’ve got me in your house, unable to leave because of those... werewolves” Danny’s tongue still caught on the word. “So, then, what do you want to do about that?”

“I’d, um, like to, you know... what we were doing, again?” Stiles stuttered and squeaked as he got this sentence out. Funny thing, Danny thought to himself, I always thought Stiles was at his most annoying when he squeaked like that, but right now _cheeks flushed, tongue darting out between his lips_ it’s kinda cute.

Danny locked eyes with Stiles and slowly lifted up his left hand and placed it on Stiles’ neck. His right hand, the one with a hand-shaped bruise appearing around the wrist, he wrapped around Stiles’ left bicep. Gently, Danny pulled Stiles closer to him until their bodies nearly touched. Then he leaned down slightly, “what we were doing?” he asked, in a breathy whisper, “you mean, this?” he said before leaning in even closer and touching his lips to Stiles’.

Stiles moaned and opened his lips to let Danny’s tongue slide between them. He used his tongue to stroke the taller boy’s and shivered slightly when Danny’s teeth grazed his lower lip. Danny slowly tightened his grip, pulling Stiles’ body flush against his own. He kept kissing the shorter boy and ghosted the fingers of his left hand up and down the side of his neck. Stiles moaned again and pressed his body even closer to Danny’s. Danny could feel himself growing hard and the pressure of Stiles pressing close and rubbing against him was exquisite. Inspired, Danny reached downwards and slipped his left hand under Stiles’ tee-shirt and ran his fingernails lightly across the smooth skin of Stiles’ lower back causing Stiles to moan even louder and writhe against him. Stiles’ hands had settled on Danny’s hips and Danny could feel his fingers pressing harder and harder into his skin. Danny could feel Stiles’ arousal and was tempted—sorely tempted—to slide his hand lower and slip his fingers below the waist of Stiles’ jeans.

 _Maybe a little too fast_ he thought to himself, and before his own desires could get the better of him he began to disengage and drew their kissing to a close. Stiles was flushed and panting, and all Danny could think when he looked at him was how nice those moist red lips felt against his own and how much nicer they’d feel pressed against other parts of his body. He blinked several times and took a deep breath.

“So, _bi I guess_?” he asked feigning sarcasm, but in a much kinder tone, “are your questions answered?”

Stiles just looked back at him, mouth quirking again into an oddly asymmetrical smile. _With dimples!_ “I never said I had any questions. I just said I wanted to kiss you and I think that went pretty well. I think,” and Danny noticed that despite the slight breathlessness, Stiles was speaking much more fluently now than he had earlier, “I think we shouldn’t be stopping now. It’s not like we can go anywhere until Scott or Derek calls to say the alphas are accounted for and my dad’s working the night shift.”

Danny just stared at him dumbfounded. _Too fast?_ He asked himself, who was I kidding, we’re both teenage boys.

“...Unless,” Stiles added, faltering a bit, “you have, um, somewhere to, uh go or, you know, someone to, um, meet?” He ended on another squeak and broke eye contact to look over Danny’s shoulder at the wall.

Danny pulled himself together quickly and said, “well I mean I was gonna go to the soccer game.”

“You were what?!” Stiles exclaimed, aghast. It was Beacon Hills tradition that the lacrosse and soccer teams never acknowledged each other’s existence and certainly never deigned to attend the other team’s games, even for a friendly like the end of year scrimmage. “Why would you even think of that?”

Danny smiled, “well there’s this midfielder...” as he spoke he watched Stiles slowly crumble inwards, the flush left his cheeks and he looked like he shrank about 2 inches.

“Oh,” said Stiles, eyes dropping to the ground, “you have a boyfriend.”

“It’s not like that,” Danny hurriedly broke in, _why am I so worried about correcting him?_ He wondered to himself. Stiles looked up, question marks practically appearing around his head. “So there’s this midfielder and he’s a little ‘confused’” Danny made a scare quote motion in the air as he spoke, “But he’s really hot and sometimes he’d, you know, let me go down on him. I thought maybe I’d try my luck in the locker room after the game. But I guess I can’t get there now so no big deal.”

“So I’m like, your second choice hook up?” Stiles asked. Hearing the words, Danny was ready for a melt down, but as Stiles raised his eyes again, all he saw was another challenge.

Not quite clear what that look meant, Danny risked a bit of sarcasm, “I guess you could look at it that way. I mean, you’re no soccer player. But you’re cute and, double plus bonus, you’re not covered in blood, sweat and grass stains.”

Stiles smiled that asymmetrical smile again— _Dimples!_ Danny’s brain shouted—and edged back into Danny’s personal space. “I guess I can live with that,” he said. “And if you’re good I might, _you know_ , let you go down on me.” Danny just blinked but Stiles kept talking, “and if you’re really good, maybe I’ll, _you know_ , go down on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession to make that line "... and some of them have stubble..." I read that somewhere in a Stiles/Danny fic. I can't remember where. It totally inspired this whole fic. THANK YOU UNNAMED AUTHOR!
> 
> ETA: I have remembered where I got the line so I'm putting in a link (I think). I read that in Minusoneday's superb WIP [Blood Pounding In Our Veins](http://archiveofourown.org/works/490958/chapters/857520).


	3. III

Stiles could barely believe the words he heard coming out of his mouth. They sounded like something from a bad porno and he felt heat creeping up his neck and cheeks as he spoke. Danny’s eyes widened and the taller boy drew a sharp inward breath.

_Oh, fuck_ , thought Stiles, _just my luck I get someone to make out with me and the first thing I do is scare them off with bad pick up lines._

Stiles opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could figure out what to say that would be _less_ mortifying than the words that had already escaped, Danny lifted up his left arm again and reached out towards Stiles face. He gently stroked two long fingers up Stiles’ right cheek, across his forehead and down his nose. Stiles froze. Danny shifted his hand downwards and started slowly tracing around Stiles’ still open mouth, then slipped his middle finger inside and slid it along Stile’s lower lip.

‘Just how good do I have to be?’ he asked, a wicked gleam in his inky dark eyes.

Stiles shut his mouth with Danny’s finger still inside it, not sure what else to do, he tentatively brought his tongue down and licked at the tip of it. Seeing Danny shiver slightly, Stiles pursed his lips and sucked a little. Danny shut his eyes and smiled, then pulled his hand away from Stiles’ face in order to rest it on the shorter boy’s hip.

‘That’s a, umm, pretty good start,’ Stiles said breathily. Stiles lifted his right hand to Danny’s chest and stroked the flat muscles through his thin teeshirt. He looked up and caught Danny’s eye before placing his other hand on Danny’s neck, stepping inwards slightly and raising his face up to pull their lips together again.

Danny closed the distance between them, and kissed him hard, teeth grazing lips and tongues touching. Stiles gasped at the electric shock of Danny’s hot tongue darting in and out of his mouth, stroking the inside of his lips and probing deeper. _Ohmygodthisisgood_ Stiles thought to himself, mentally comparing Danny’s scratchy chin and demanding mouth to the smoother and quite yielding Jessica Waters who’d let Stiles put his hand up her shirt last summer at camp. After that experience, Stiles had thought he could die a happy man. He knew better now.

The two boys grappled, hands catching on teeshirts and hips grinding into each other. Stiles, like all the boys he’d ever talked to, had spent a significant amount of his teen years online looking at porn; and, with no other dude kissing experience of his own to draw on, he fell back on one of his favourite gifs and hoped for the best. He drew Danny’s tongue deep into his mouth and sucked on it, hard. Danny moaned and shifted even closer.

Stiles’ fingers brushed against the smooth skin of Danny’s back and he remembered how good Danny’s fingernails had felt on his own. He shifted slightly and then used his heavily chewed (but still sharp!) nails to graze parallel lines across Danny’s lower back. Danny moaned again and broke their kiss and let go of Stiles.

For a second Stiles froze, worrying he’d done something wrong, but Danny only leaned back in Stiles’ arms and reached down to free up the edge of his grey tee. He quickly pulled it up and over his head and Stiles’ breath caught looking at Danny’s strong torso. Sure, he’d seen Danny plenty of times in the locker room, but this was different. Danny was taking his shirt off not for practice or for a game, but _for Stiles_ and Stiles could feel the heat radiating off the taller boy everywhere their bodies touched. He put a hand back on Danny’s torso and traced the strong muscles of his chest and abdomen, fingers drawn to where his eyes were fixed on the thin dark line of hair leading tantalisingly downwards from Danny’s navel.

Danny’s breathing was erratic and Stiles looked up to make sure he wasn’t tickling him inadvertently. Danny had shut his eyes and thrown back his head, bronze cheeks were flushed dark red and his lips were parted. Stiles was already hard, but the pressure of his dick against the zipper of his jeans grew even more acute as he looked at Danny’s wet, glistening lips and felt the goosebumps coming up on his skin. Stiles looked back at Danny’s chest and saw that his dark brown nipples were hard and erect. Out of curiosity, he drew his right hand up and away from Danny’s happy trail and ran it lightly over his left nipple. Danny drew a sharp inward breath and so Stiles did the same thing to his right nipple. Danny gasped again and Stiles, intrigued and aroused, lifted up his left hand and lightly raked his fingernails across Danny’s chest.

“Fuck!” Danny swore, “Oh fuck!” Stiles smiled and this and leaned in to Danny’s chest. Danny’s nipples were so hard they looked like little muscles were flexing behind them and Stiles, totally enthralled, opened his mouth and gently licked first Danny’s right nipple then his left.

Danny’s fingers, still tangled up in Stiles’ teeshirt began spasming slightly, so Stiles reached one hand down and started to pull off his own shirt. Feeling what he was up to, Danny released Stiles’ shirt and slipped his hands under the hem running his thumbs up and down Stiles’ hip bones.

Getting one’s shirt off with one hand while holding on to someone else with the other and simultaneously licking his nipples and squirming from the almost tickly strokes to one’s own stomach and hips turned out to be a bigger challenge than Stiles had realised and he quickly found himself all tangled up with one arm sticking straight in the air and his head hopelessly trapped. Danny started laughing and, after a moment, Stiles did too. He felt Danny lift his hands of his hips and reach up to help wrangle Stiles’ tee off his face. Between the two of them the shirt soon found itself on the floor with Danny’s. Stiles shivered slightly as the cool, late afternoon air touched his skin and then shivered again as Danny’s fingers started tracing lines upwards from his hips to his waist and towards his armpits.

Danny shifted quickly and reached across Stile’s chest to pinch his nipples, ‘heyy.... ohhhhh’ Stiles started to object, but ended in a squeaky moan that made him blush.

“Serves you right,” Danny said, smiling at him, “for going after mine without a warning. Hey, Stiles,” Danny continued, “not that I mind the whole pressed-up-against-the-wall thing, but is there somewhere maybe a bit more comfortable around here.” Stiles felt himself blushing dark crimson and his eyes widened as he realised that the whole of the last very intense quarter hour had been carried out against the wall next to his front door, in full view of at least three windows.

“Umm,” he stuttered, eyes darting around the ground floor. _Sofa? No curtains in the front room. Kitchen? Wooden chairs. Floor? Carpet burns._ He swallowed, “There’s my b... bedroom,” Stiles stuttered, “if you don’t mind coming upstairs?” Dammit! Still squeaking. Why couldn’t he stop squeaking?

Danny didn’t seem to notice the hesitation, just ran his hand up and down Stiles’ back again and leaned forward, lips angled towards the side of Stiles’ head, “I never mind _coming_ ,” he whispered in Stiles’ ear, warm breath making Stiles shiver. Stiles froze as the tip of Danny’s tongue began to trace the edge of that very ear, before his teeth closed lightly on Stiles earlobe. Stiles felt a low moan escaping and tried to rein it in, but only succeeded in making his voice crack in the middle of it. Somehow that was even more wanton. And embarrassing.

He pulled his right hand off Danny’s hip where it had been resting and placed it over Danny’s left hand, then he stepped backwards angling the two of them towards the stairs. He pulled gently and Danny followed, pausing to scoop up their shirts en route. He let go of Danny’s hand when he reached the stairs, because there was no way in hell that Stiles was cool enough to walk backwards up a flight of stairs without falling—probably knocking himself out and breaking a few bones in the process. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was leading this smoking hot guy straight to his room, that they’d been kissing and, _oh god_ , touching for at least 20 minutes and that he could see the outline of Danny’s cock, hard and insistent, pressing against his _really quite tight_ jeans and feel his own doing much the same thing. Stiles was practically vibrating with arousal, so, to keep from making a fool of himself, he just smiled, turned his back on Danny and started walking up the beige-carpeted stairs, hoping that Danny was following rather than coming to his senses and settling in on the sofa with a crossword puzzle.

At the top of the stairs, Stiles paused and looked over his shoulder. Danny was right behind him, still smiling, pupils still dilated. Stiles took a breath, realising that he hadn’t quite breathed while his back was to Danny. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Years spent crushing on Lydia and the closest he’d even gotten to a kiss was a friendly peck on the cheek and a pity date to a school dance, a few weeks spent thinking about Danny and here he was leading him half-naked towards his bedroom. _It’s probably the whole girl vs. guy thing_ , Stiles thought to himself. _It’s just sex, he probably still hates me._ Stiles tried to shrug this thought off, but the idea that Danny might not really like him that much despite all the glorious shirt-less kissing sat heavy in his gut like bad potato salad.

Maybe Danny saw something of this worry on Stiles face because, as he reached the top step, he reached out his right hand and raked his fingernails lightly down Stiles’ back. “Which way from here?” he asked, “I was a little distracted by _Miguel_ last time I was here.”

He smiled a little and flicked his tongue out over his teeth. Stiles flushed with heat and a wave of arousal washed some of the worry out of his system. “End of the hall on the right” he said, turning to take Danny’s hand and leading the way.

Danny followed him into the room and let go of his hand to shut the door tightly behind them. Stiles did a quick scan to make sure nothing embarrassing was visible and quietly thanked his father for making him clean his room earlier that week. He looked up and met Danny’s eyes again, and then paused, unsure what do to do next. Danny looked back, licked his lips again and said, “If you were to keep pressing me up against the wall like downstairs, I wouldn’t complain.”

The spell was broken. Stiles stepped forward into Danny’s space, feeling the heat radiating off the taller boy’s naked torso. He raised his arms, placing his hands against Danny’s strong, sculpted shoulders and pushed him back a little clumsily against the wall. He let his hands drift lower, travelling down Danny’s chest and sides and then, standing slightly on tip-toes, pressed his lips to Danny’s. Stiles felt an electric current go through him as the whole length of their bodies came in contact again, and gasped slightly. Danny took advantage of Stiles’ parted lips and flicked his tongue into the other boy’s mouth tracing his lower lip and making Stiles gasp again. Stiles actually moaned when Danny’s arms wrapped around him, his hands first stroking then squeezing Stiles’ ass through his jeans. “Christ,” Stiles gasped into Danny’s mouth as the firm pressure of Danny’s hands and the insistence of his own cock forced him to buck his hips, grinding into Danny’s thigh. He felt Danny grind back, hot pressure rubbing against his stomach.

Danny’s right hand remained tightly gripping his ass, but his left was on his lower back, fingers dipping below the waist line of Stiles’ jeans. Danny broke their kiss and caught Stiles’ eye. “Can I?” he asked, flexing the fingers of his left hand inside the elastic of Stiles’ boxers.

“God, yes,” breathed Stiles, stepping back slightly and moving his own hands to start fiddling with Danny’s belt. Stiles preference for baggy jeans meant that Danny didn’t even bother with the buttons or zip. He just pushed his left hand farther in and used his right to pull Stiles jeans down over his hips until they slid past his knees and pooled around his feet. The cool air on his thighs mingled with the hot pressure of Danny’s fingers through his thin cotton boxers took Stiles out of himself for a moment.

_Is this it?_ He thought. _Is this how you go about hooking up? Or… Ohmygod… losing your virginity?_ _Holy shit! I’m losing my virginity!_ This thought did not make him nearly as nervous as he thought it should. If anything, it spurred him on to focus a bit less on Danny’s wandering hands and a bit more on Danny’s button fly. _Who buys jeans with a button fly, anyways?_ He asked himself as the last button came undone and Danny let go of Stiles to help wiggle himself of jeans that Stiles admitted to himself were entirely too tight for public consumption.

They stood for a moment looking at each other, Stiles in grey cotton boxers, Danny in black cotton boxer briefs, both with erections tenting the front, leaving a visible dark spot on Stiles’ lighter coloured underwear. Stiles, put out a hand, a bit more tentatively than he’d have liked and placed his palm gently against Danny’s boxer-brief outlined cock, running his fingers gently up its length. Danny made a strangled noise, halfway between a moan and a laugh and Stiles looked up to see if he should stop. Danny’s eyes were pressed shut, he was biting his lower lip and his hands were balled up in fists by his side. _Guess that worked_ , Stiles thought, and did it again, feeling an answering jump in his own cock.

This time, Danny stretched his hands out, much less tentatively than Stiles had done, and pulled Stiles back to him, lowering his lips to Stiles’ as he did so. Their cocks bumped together, cotton sliding between them causing hot friction and sending jolt of pleasure through Stiles’ body that felt as shocking as a cooler of ice and Gatorade being dumped over his head. Danny grabbed at Stiles’ ass again and Stiles pushed up against Danny, feeling a hot something building in his stomach where the tips of their cocks were rubbing together. Stiles moaned, and then

“Who let the dogs out? Who! Who! Who! Who let the dogs out? Who! Who! Who!” Music jangled up at him from the floor where his discarded jeans lay.

Stiles broke their kiss, flushing for an entirely different reason. “Oh shit!” he said, “That’s Scott.”


	4. IV

Danny started laughing, whether at Stiles’ embarrassment at the phone going off or at the equally embarrassing but funny-at-the-time ring tone, Stiles couldn’t tell. Stiles quickly dropped to his knees and scrabbled around in their discarded jeans until he found his phone.

“Hi, Scott!” he said, perhaps a little too brightly, hoping that Scott couldn’t use the wolf senses over the phone.

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott’s voice was a little tinny. _Speakerphone_. Thought Stiles, _he must be in the car_. “I’m on my way over now, be there in 5 – Hey, does Danny need a ride?” Stiles’ eyes climbed up Danny’s long long legs to his boxers and up his muscular chest to his face where two very dark eyes were looking down quizzically and a very red pair of lips was still smiling broadly.

Stiles, very aware of Scott on the phone, made an effort to make his voice sound as normal as possible, “Umm, Scott says he’ll be _here_ in _five minutes_. He wants to know if you need a ride – home or back to school or something.”

Danny clearly got the message Stiles was sending, “yeah. A, uh, ride back to my car at school would be great.” He said while struggling back into his jeans and scooping his shirt off the floor.

“Yeah, Scott,” Stiles said into the phone, “Danny could use a ride.”

“Ok. Be there in three minutes!”

The second he heard Scott hang up, Stiles dove into the pile of clothes on the floor, hoping his shirt wasn’t inside out and his jeans were the right way round. Danny, still snickering a little, opened the door and slid out of Stiles’ room and into the hall. “Which way is the bathroom,” he asked over his shoulder.

“Two doors down on the left,” said Stiles as he rifled through the piles of crap on his chest drawers trying to find… _there is it!_ Some awful cologne his grandma had given him for Christmas last year. He heard water in the bathroom and figured Danny was doing the same things as him: erasing evidence. Stiles wasn’t sure that Scott knew Danny’s smell well enough to pick up what he’d just been doing, but he damn well knew Stiles’.

Stiles ran downstairs to make sure nothing incriminating lay in the front hall and then sat down on the bottom step. Moments later he heard Danny ambling down the stairs behind him. Danny sat down on the next step up, but Stiles didn’t turn to face him. He felt his face blazing and thought to himself _how could I possibly be more embarrassed now, fully dressed, than I was nearly naked and with my dick pressed up against him?_

Danny put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and stretched on finger out to scratch at his neck. Stiles turned, still blushing. “Hey,” Danny said, “I guess we’ll finish this whole… thing… later, right?”

“Right,” Stiles said quickly looking away, “Umm, don’t say anything to Scott, ok? I mean not just the whole… bi thing… but also that I, you know, told you he was a werewolf? I think I need to let him and, um, Derek hear that from me.”

“Ok,” Danny said just as a small pebble hit the pane of blue glass in the middle of the front door.

“Mountain ash,” Stiles said, responding to the question in Danny’s dark _so very dark, and gleaming_ eyes. “He can’t even touch the door because it’s in the frame.”

“Oh,” said Danny quietly, rising to take the last few steps. Stiles got up and followed him out into the incredibly normal, incredibly sunny late Spring afternoon. _It’s only been like an hour since we left school. How has it only been an hour?_

“Hey Scott!” He called out, hoping he still sounded normal, hoping that his cheeks weren’t too flushed.

“Hey Stiles – you ok man? You’re a little red.”

“Adrenaline dude – had to outrun two you-know-what’s” he glanced at Danny standing next to him in the doorway, “with Danny in tow.”

“Cool. Well, there’s no sign of them now,” Scott said, glancing at Danny as well, “Danny, Stiles said you needed a ride, where to?”

“Just to my car – still parked at school,” Danny responded, walking towards Scott’s car and away from Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t really tell what he was feeling: disappointment? Worry? Infatuation? Blue balls? Just that it was something cold and grey in the pit of his stomach and it was getting worse as Danny walked further and further ways from him. He leaned on the door and watched Danny’s ass move in the too tight button fly jeans that all too recently had been on Stiles’ bedroom floor. Scott said something to Danny, Danny laughed. Stiles waved at them as Danny lowered himself into Scott’s car.

Danny paused and looked up at Stiles in the doorway, “Hey, Stiles!” He called out, “Thanks, man! And, um, that thing we were talking about? We should talk about it some more later.” He grinned, winked and dropped into Scott’s car, slamming the door behind him.

Stiles stayed where he was, leaning against the door frame, watching as Scott backed out of the driveway and drove off down the road. Then he straightened up, cracked his neck from side to side and turned back into the house, pulling the door closed behind him.

The stench of his own awful cologne caught his attention and Stiles started sneezing as he walked towards the stairs. On the seventh sneeze, he decided that the only cure was probably a shower and he trudged glumly towards the bathroom, hoping soap was strong enough to cut the stink and that his bedroom wouldn’t reek too badly.

Stiles slowly peeled his clothes back off, sliding his jeans down his legs without bothering to undo the button or fly just like Danny had done. That thought alone was enough to make him half hard all over again. He stepped out of his boxers and into the shower, leaving a pool of dirty, cologne-saturated clothing on the bathroom floor.

Stiles turned the handle to the hottest setting, pulled it all the way out and stood very still under the pounding water as it slowly heated and steam started curling around his legs and arms. Eyes shut, he replayed the last hour of his life. He lifted his right hand and touched his lips, his cheek, his neck – all the places Danny’s lips had touched. With his left, he stroked down his torso, ran a fingernail across his nipples, still sore from having been pinched, and to his hips. He could feel an imprint of Danny’s hand on his ass, of his fingers gripping Stiles’ hips. Just like that he was rock hard again.

Shifting in the hot spray, Stiles braced himself against the shower wall and wrapped the fingers of his right hand around his rock hard cock, shivering as he ran his thumb across the pulsing red head. His skin was so flushed he could practically feel his fingers burning as he stroked himself. Eyes shut again, he called up the feeling of Danny’s cock against his, two layers of cotton catching and rubbing between them. He moaned slightly and started pumping his hand. Stiles brought his left hand back to his chest and raked his fingernails across his nipples again. White lightning shot through his body and he thrust faster and faster into his hand. He pictured Danny’s mouth - red, gleaming lips - and tried to imagine their insistent pressure wrapped around his cock, a hand on his ass pressing Stiles deeper and deeper into his hot, wet mouth with that teasing tongue. And with that thought, Stiles felt his balls seize up and hot fire ran up his legs and down his arms as he came, hard into his own hand. He moaned loudly and was glad his dad wasn’t there to knock on the door and ask if everything was ok. Stiles slumped back against the wall and lifted his hand to the shower spray to wash the cum away.

Ten minutes later he turned the water off and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. He towelled himself dry, shivering slightly as he ran the towel over his still sensitive cock and stumbled down the hall to his bedroom. Stiles sat on the edge of his bed and thought about his English essay for Monday. Every time he blinked, images of Danny, panting and nearly naked, flashed before his mind’s eye. Ernest Hemingway was nowhere near as interesting as the ideas unfurling between his ears.

Stiles lay back against his pillow and shut his eyes. _Just a little nap_ he thought, _then I’ll pull some clothes on and get to work_. Exhausted by the running, the fear, the kissing and the monster orgasm that had made up his afternoon, Stiles quickly fell into a deep sleep. He woke naked, chilled and disoriented several hours later to the sound of pebbles hitting his bedroom window.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a very unpleasant word in this chapter in the context of some really nasty attempted bullying. It gets dealt with immediately, but if that's a problem for you please consider yourself forewarned.

Danny whistled to himself as he walked up the steps of Beacon Hills High School. The steps were crowded in the warm morning sun and he had to step over and around sleeping and studying students on his way to the school door. Only two weeks of school were left _ten more days!_ before summer vacation, but Danny and most of his classmates still had final exams staring them in the face.

Summer usually wasn’t that exciting for Danny. Unlike Jackson’s, his family never went on lush holidays. If they were lucky, he got to spend 10 days in a tent in the mountains listening to his parents bicker while his sister whined about mosquitos. Most days he got up early, sometimes even before dawn, to run while the air was still cool. Then, he went to work at an invariably grinding and unpleasant summer job: cook in a greasy spoon, gas station teller, supermarket stocker. In the evenings, he’d hang with Jackson or his other lacrosse buddies or sneak into clubs like The Jungle with his fake ID.

This year would be no different, he’d already lined up a job in a big box store selling computers and tablets to morons, but _after Friday night_ he thought hopefully, _maybe the evenings will be a little more varied_. Then Danny pushed open the double door to the school and snorted, _look at me going goggly-eyed over Stilinski. What the fuck._

It’s not like Danny had never had a crush before – he’d even had a couple of boyfriends (although his family had only ever heard about one of them), but this was different somehow. The other guys he’d dated _wait, DATED, since when was I DATING Stiles?_ had been older. He’d met them out in town, in a club or a coffee shop or, memorably, the supermarket warehouse he’d worked in last summer. They played for his team, sure, but they didn’t play lacrosse with him; and two (the ones his parents never met) hadn’t even seen Star Wars. Danny was pretty sure Stiles spoke Ewok.

Still thinking about Star Wars _and Stiles_ , Danny slid into his assigned homeroom desk. He daydreamed through roll call and morning announcements, only blinking to awareness when his phone buzzed in his pocket just as the bell for first period rang.

Out in the hall, Danny pulled out his phone and swiped his finger across the screen. There were two unread messages and he stifled a little burst of excitement to see that one was from Stiles. Out of annoyance with himself, he intentionally read Jackson’s first.

“wil b lt. get hw. Pretend u no abt stitches.” Danny just stared at his phone. What in hell had Jackson gotten up to all weekend? When he’d cancelled their movie plans on Saturday, Danny had just assumed it was to hang out with Lydia, but he didn’t think Lydia, even at her angriest, would actually _cut_ Jackson. Where were these stitches anyways? And why should he pretend he knew about them?

He was switching over to Stiles’ message, a pleasant flutter in the pit of his stomach, when he sensed a person directly in front of him and looked up. “Phone off, Danny,” said Mr. Lincoln, “and get in your seat now. Pop quiz as soon as the bell rings.” Danny looked at his Stats teacher’s red, bearded face with annoyance and ostentatiously turned off his phone and tucked it into his pocket again. Then he ducked into the classroom and into his desk and went burrowing in his back pack trying to find a pencil. _Who schedules a pop quiz three days before the final exam?!_

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, Danny finally lunged back into the hall and turned his phone back on. He ambled over to his locker while it started up, looking up and down the halls for Jackson or Lydia _or Stiles_. His phone buzzed again and he looked down, three new messages in addition to the previous message from Stiles.

Thumbing to Stiles’ message, he read “Not gonna make it in this morning. Cd you get my chem hw?” and a knot seemed to form in his stomach where the butterflies had been. _What on earth did you expect_ he chided himself ‘ _I want to kiss your pretty lips’ ‘come do me in the men’s room’ ‘be my boyfriend’?_ It’s not like Stiles had even talked to him all weekend, and he’d totally had the chance. After Jackson blew him off Saturday night, Danny had sent a text to Stiles asking if he wanted to hang out, and _everyone_ knew what that meant! Stiles hadn’t even responded until Sunday lunchtime and that was a quick “Sry no time. Sctt emerg.” Which, fine. If Stiles’ best friend was a werewolf then maybe there were extenuating circumstances, but he could have at least acknowledged that maybe their relationship had changed since Friday afternoon. _OMG relationship? For serious? Chill out, Danny_ , he told himself.

The next message was Jackson again “mayb no skl 2day. Remem: u no stitches!!!” Danny looked up from his phone and scanned the halls for Lydia again, he knew Jackson too well to think that he’d get the story behind these stitches from him, but maybe he could wheedle it out of Lydia. She knew everything.

Another message from Jackson followed, “Def no skl or training. Tel coach sik”. Danny sighed. He’d been making a lot of these excuses to their coach lately. Ever since Jackson and Lydia had broken up, Jackson had been even flakier than normal. Danny thought that the two of them hooking up again would help. It hadn’t. It wasn’t like missing the biweekly training sessions was a big deal – it was the off season after all – but Coach liked to keep an eye on his players; and Danny knew these end of year practices were key if Jackson wanted to be in the running for captain next year. With all the crazy skills his teammates were developing, hell even Stiles managed to score, regular attendance was probably the only thing that would sway Coach away from naming Scott or Isaac ( _Werewolves!_ yelped the bit of his brain that had been chatting to him without cease since Friday evening) captain next year.

Danny sighed and thumbed his screen to the final message. This was also from Stiles ( _Stiles!_ crowed that bit of his brain again), “Not gonna make school. Dancing with wolves. Find you at training we need 2 talk.” Danny bit his lower lip. This was a little more personal than the last text. Stiles said he’d find him, he wanted to talk. _We need 2 talk. Famous last words_. He passed a hand through his hair, trying to shove the emotional turmoil _that, oh my god, I really don’t need right now!_ away. The bell clanged and he jumped before slamming his locker shut and jogging down the hall to his English class.

The rest of the school day was uneventful. Danny picked up homework for Stiles in Chem and Jackson in English and History. He kept his eyes peeled in the hall for Lydia, but she seemed to be absent as well. Danny wondered what she and Jackson were up to that was so important – Lydia never skipped, even when she got out of the hospital after the assault, she’d come right back to school. As much as he loved Jackson, Danny had always thought she was too good for his best friend. Even before the assault—and so much more so afterwards—Lydia had always reminded him of Buffy: whip-smart and dangerous, stalking the halls of the school hidden by her perfect hair and pretty face. He smiled to himself, but the smile froze partially formed. _Oh shit_ , he thought as he walked towards the locker room, _She IS Buffy. All that time she’s been spending with Scott and Stiles. And Jackson. Jackson who hates dudes like Scott and Stiles. Oh god, is Jackson one of them too?_ He was totally lost in his thoughts as he leaned his shoulder on the locker room door and walked in.

He elbowed through the clumps of partially dressed athletes as he navigated the equipment-, clothing- and bench-strewn path to his locker. The lacrosse team weren’t the only ones doing end of year training in the warm, sunny weather, but Danny was so wrapped up in picturing Jackson in league with werewolves ( _Jackson as a werewolf!_ ) that he didn’t respond to friendly waves and nods from friends on other teams. He startled when a hand came down on his shoulder and realised he’d been standing in front of his locker, just staring, for several moments.

Danny turned around and looked up into a pair of very blue eyes, partially hidden behind a ragged blond fringe. He smiled.

“Hey, Jordan,” he said. “How was the game on Friday?”

Jordan dropped his hand from Danny’s shoulder and shifted a bit awkwardly on his feet. “Oh we lost,” he shrugged. “I was surprised I didn’t see you after to, you know, hang out.” Danny blinked up at the tall, rangy soccer player in surprise.

“Hang out?” he asked. “You mean hoo…” Jordan waved his hand to cut Danny off and flashed a panicked look at his teammates at the other end of the locker room.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I had better places to be,” he said. _And to be with_ came that insidious little voice. “Anyhow, it’s not like I’m the only on you ‘hang out’ with. You have a girlfriend after all.”

“Yeah, but, you’re different, you know. We have… fun,” Jordan said all this while looking over Danny’s head, clearly watching his teammates to make sure they weren’t watching him.

“Dude,” Danny said, an annoyed edge in his voice he almost didn’t recognise, “ _You_ have fun. I ‘have fun’ in the shower afterwards while you’re getting dressed.” Jordan blushed and looked sharply away from Danny.

“Aw man, why do you have to be like that?” he asked, his eyes still not meeting Danny’s. “You know I’m not like that!”

“Like what, exactly?” Danny hissed. “Out?” Jordan blushed again and motioned Danny to lower his voice even farther.

“Look, I know people are all happy clappy and whatever here in Beacon Hills, but I was raised in Tampa and in Tampa we know that some things just aren’t natural.”

Danny felt his mouth drop open. “So, what, me giving you head is not natural?” Danny hissed and was pleased to see Jordan cringe, “You have a funny way of showing it when your dick is down my throat.”

“No, man, that’s just, you know, one dude helping another out. But I’m not into _doing_ that shit, you know that.” As he spoke he clearly caught the eye of one of his teammates and he stepped backwards, putting more space between himself and Danny.

“This is what I know, Jordan,” Danny shot back, “you’ve just come all the way over here to ask why I wasn’t around Friday to suck your dick and then told me that my sucking your dick is unnatural and you’ll never be sucking mine.” Jordan swallowed and took another step backwards. “I know you just moved here last year, but this isn’t Florida, Jordan. Get your head out of your ass!” Danny heard his voice rising and Jordan was looking visibly more panicked. Danny lowered his voice again, but continued, “And you know what, you can fuck right back off to your soccer team and you can be damn sure I’ll never be ‘helping you out’ again.”

Jordan kept backing away, heading in the direction of the soccer team’s lockers. “Fine, man. Whatever.” And then he looked side to side, locked his eyes on Danny’s, puffed out his chest and slightly more loudly said “Fag.”

The entire locker room fell silent. Danny just stared. Half-naked guys stared, shifting their glance from Jordan to Danny, then back to Jordan. Danny watched as the soccer team slowly coalesced behind the tall blond. The captain, a short and extremely hairy junior, stepped forward and looked up at Jordan. “Dude,” he said clearly, “we don’t use that sort of language on this team. I’m going to need you to come with me and talk with the coach.” Jordan scanned room as if looking for support, finding none, he seemed to deflate from the weight of all the quiet stares. He followed his captain out of the locker room without a single glance back at Danny.

“Hey, man, you okay?” called out a particularly reedy cross-country runner.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danny called back, “He was just being a dickhead.”

 “You ever need back up, Danny, you know we’re here,” added a burly shot-putter who Danny thought was also on the football team.

“Thanks guys,” Danny said just as the storage cupboard door opened and Stiles stumbled out trying to hold onto a teetering pile of shoulder pads and helmets.

“Hey, could I get a hand here?” came Stiles’ voice from behind the pile. “Anyone?” he added just as two of the helmets toppled off the pile, bounced off the wall, into a wooden bench and hit the ground with a crack, sending fragments of shattered face guard skittering across the floor.


	6. VI

“Could one of you guys grab a broom?” Danny called out to the clumps of athletes milling around before team practices and training sessions, “I’ll help Stiles with these things.” Danny pivoted back towards Stiles and his increasingly precarious pile of lacrosse kit and took two quick steps towards him, reaching out to catch another helmet which had shaken loose. He put the helmet on a bench and then put both arms up to stabilise the pile of shoulder pads filling Stiles’ arms.

Danny carefully lifted one set of pads after another off the pile and set them down next to the intact helmet. As the pile shrank, Stiles’ face emerged quirked smile and deep dimples flashing at Danny. “Thanks, Danny,” he said, “Finstock wants to do training sprints with kit and, since I was the first one here, he had me start getting it out of storage.” Danny fought off the urge to reach out and touch Stiles’ cheek and kept methodically unstacking shoulder pads. “Now I guess I’ll have to dig out a couple more helmets,” Stiles added looking around before very deliberately adding, “Do. You. Know. Where. Finstock. Keeps. Them?”

Danny lifted an eyebrow at Stiles’ lack of subtlety then smiled slightly, watching a blush creep up Stiles’ cheeks. “Sure. They’re kinda hidden in the back of the cupboard, want me to show you?”

Stiles blinked but kept his eyes on Danny’s and when he said “Please?” it came out significantly squeakier than Danny thought he’d probably wanted it to. Stiles blushed a deeper red, then turned quickly and pushed the cupboard door open. Danny followed the shorter boy into the dim, windowless room, letting his smile creep across his whole face. Until, that is, he remembered that text “we need 2 talk.”

The door swung shut behind him and, as his eyes adjusted, Danny saw that Stiles was standing in the far corner of the kit storage cupboard, one hand on his hip the other running back and forth through his short brown hair. He looked up and Danny and smiled, “I wish there were a lock on this door,” he said.

Danny smiled again and walked towards him, “How can you say something like that without blushing, but you turn lobster coloured when I offer to come in here with you?”

Stiles started twitching, clearly flustered, “Oh, I, um, I didn’t mean… I mean, it would be… I mean. Crap.” Danny couldn’t tell in the light, but he guessed Stiles was blushing again.

Never one to hide from his worries, Danny lowered his voice slightly as he got closer to Stiles and said, “So, you want to talk about Friday night?”

Stiles looked up and smiled, making eye contact again, “yes! Friday night! Look, you can’t tell anyone about that. I mean,” his fingers started twitching again, “I think some people already know, and maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I just can’t afford to let anyone else find out.” Stiles paused and the twitching stilled. He looked very intensely at Danny, “you understand, right?”

Danny, frozen, felt like his stomach was pooling on the ground between his feet. It wasn’t hugely surprising that Stiles, after that surprisingly hot make-out session on Friday night, might be a little worried about what the rest of the school might think, but coming right after the nasty little fight with Jordan, it felt like slap. _How could he do this?_ Danny asked himself, thinking of the unashamed and enthusiastic way Stiles had squirmed against him three days earlier. “So you dragged me into a cupboard,” Danny drawled, voice thick with sarcasm, “to ask me to keep all this,” he gestured vaguely, “closeted?”

“Um… yeah?” Stiles responded, “I mean, we can’t have the whole team finding out, right? And you definitely can’t be seen with me right now.”

Danny just stared, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked sharply. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say and we have been in school together since second grade!” Stiles looked confused for a moment, then laughed slightly. He reached out and took Danny’s left hand in his right, “No, Danny, I don’t mean _like that_. It’s just…”

“STILINSKI!” Finstock’s voice roared from the other side of the door, “what have you done to these helmets?”

“Getting more, Coach! Danny is showing me where they are!” Stiles shouted back, not missing a beat.

Danny shook his hand free of Stiles’ and hissed quietly, “Tomorrow lunchtime, meet me in the stairwell by the computer lab. Better clear up why you _can’t be seen with me_.” Danny bent over, grabbed a spare helmet and spun around to stalk out of the storage cupboard and into the locker room.

A few minutes later, when Stiles emerged from the cupboard with several more helmets in his hands the rest of the team – minus Jackson, Scott and Isaac – had arrived; but Danny was already changed and on his way outside.

 

Danny leaned against the stairwell wall, picking idly at his left thumbnail. He hadn’t spoken to Stiles at all since their encounter in the storage cupboard. Training the night before was all sprints and laps, about the only activity guaranteed to wind Stiles enough to shut him up. Danny had taken off right after practice, deciding to change and shower at home rather than loiter in the locker room.

On the way to his car he sent a text to Jackson – the fifth that day – asking what had happened and if he wanted to hang out, but was quietly relieved when this one went unanswered like the rest.

Arriving home, Danny called out to his sister to let her know he was home, then climbed the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom. After a quick shower, he pulled on some sweats, grabbed a bowl of cereal from the kitchen and settled down on his bed to study for his Stats final; but he couldn’t stay focussed.

Danny checked his phone for the hundredth time, looking for texts from Jackson _from Stiles_. Nothing. He sighed, closed his Stats book and put his empty cereal bowl on the floor. Danny glanced over at his bedroom door to make sure he’d locked it before lifting his hips and sliding his sweat pants off and onto the foot of the bed.

_I knew it should have been a cold shower_ , he thought as he leaned, back, spread his legs slightly and reached into his boxers to cup his balls. He rolled them lightly with his right hand and shut his eyes, focussing on a favourite fantasy.

_Chris Helmsworth smiled at Danny from where he stood on the empty beach, blond hair gleaming in the sun. He was naked and his tanned skin flowed like silk over his muscles as he walked towards Danny._

Danny shifted his right hand and started stroking his half hard cock. He ran the fingernails of his left hand up and down the inside of his thigh. “Mmm,” he moaned quietly, focussing on Chris Helmsworth’s undulating abdominal muscles and tree-trunk legs.

_Chris’ cock was as enormous as the rest of him, fully erect and bobbing slightly as reached out to take Danny in his strong arms._

Danny sped up the pace of his stroking, squeezing and twisting as his fingers brushed the head of his now fully erect cock.

_He could practically feel the sand between his toes as Chris wrapped his arms around Danny and thrust his impossibly long, dripping cock against Danny’s stomach._

Danny felt the muscles in his legs start twitching. He kept stroking his cock hard and fast with his right hand and shifted his left to stroke the sensitive skin behind his balls. He moaned again, biting his lip to keep the sound in.

_Chris Helmsworth leaned down to kiss him and Danny felt the fantasy shift around him. The arms wrapped around him were strong, but thinner than Chris Helmsworth’s. The lips pressing against his were warm and insistent. The cock rubbing against his own was smaller and he felt the friction of two layers of cotton rubbing between them as they thrust against each other. Stiles was gripping his ass tightly and sucking on his tongue…_

“Ffuuuucckkkk” Danny gasped as his orgasm ripped through him, cum sliding between his fingers and shooting up onto his stomach. He kept stroking himself, but slowed down a bit riding out the aftershocks until his cock grew too sensitive. He let his hands slide to the bed spread.

He lay on his bed, legs spread, eyes shut, cum dripping down his stomach for several minutes, just letting his breathing get back to normal. Slowly he blinked his eyes open and slid upright, reaching for some tissue from the box by his bed. He carefully wiped up the mess he’d made and flexed his legs, cracking his toes.

Danny grabbed for his sweats and pulled them on. He balled up the soiled tissues in his hands and threw them across the room into his trash basket; then he got up and went to the door, heading towards the bathroom to wash his still quite sticky hands.

One hand braced on the sink to keep himself upright, Danny ran a damp washcloth over his stomach and face. He sighed and shook his head, looking into his own dark brown eyes in the mirror. “What the fuck, Mahealani?” He said to his reflection. “What. The. Fuck.” Five times since Friday he had settled in to think of Chris Helmsworth and five times he found himself holding on to fucking Stiles Stilinski. _Bisexual, closeted, can’t-be-seen-with-you Stiles Stilinski. With dimples._

And the result was the same all five times: enormous fucking hydrogen bomb of an orgasm. Did the crush come from the orgasms or the orgasms from the crush? Danny didn’t really care anymore, he just wanted it resolved. Chem was last period on Tuesdays so he wouldn’t see Stiles until lunch time _If he even shows up!_

Danny turned the water off and paced back to his room, resolving to study until dinner and not to think about Stiles again until he had to. And the next day, leaning against the grey wall in the emptiest stairwell in Beacon Hills High, Danny looked up from picking idly at a thumbnail to find that he had to.

Stiles galumphed down the stairs with his usual lack of grace. Danny watched with a smile on his face, remembering all the times Stiles had fallen off chairs and out of desks. Somehow, he managed to make it all the way to the landing Danny was occupying without so much as missing a step, and he quickly reined in all his fluttering limbs and tried to stand still as he faced Danny. A flush crept up his cheeks and he was slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late. I had to give a message to Scott from Allison. They’re still pretending they hate each other.”

Danny smiled a tight small smile and didn’t let Stiles’ flushed cheeks or open lips change his mind, “Right,”  he said, “I didn’t really like what you were saying yesterday.” Stiles stopped smiling and his whole body grew still. “I mean, I don’t even know how this happened, but I like you, Stiles, enough that I want to get to know you, be your friend, maybe even go on a date.” _Maybe?_ Echoed his inner voice. _Liar._ Danny paused to look at Stiles, his face wasn’t guarded like Danny expected, but almost hopeful – if a little crazed. Danny continued, “But I’m not gonna hang out with another closeted guy. That way lies madness.”

“And totally unsatisfying hook ups!” Stiles interrupted, “I heard you talking with Jordan yesterday, you know, through the cupboard door. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it’s just… I’m really sorry. I mean, do you need a little” he paused, a conflicted look passing across his face, “I don’t know, time or something to sort things out?”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Danny, slightly taken aback by Stiles’ reaction, “I meant, that whole ‘can’t be seen with you in public’ thing? That can’t happen.”

“Dude!” interrupted Stiles again, “you thought that was about this?” he gestured broadly at the two of them. Danny nodded slightly. Stiles just shook his head, “No, Danny, all that was wolf stuff. See,” Stiles looked around to make sure they were alone, “Derek Hale came by my place Friday night and he… um, well… he _smelled_ you and, um, me and he, he knew what was up.” Stiles was blushing again. He swallowed then continued quickly before Danny could say anything. “And then he said he’d rip your head off if I so much as breathed in your general direction again because I’d brought enough humans into this and could I just keep it in my pants or was he gonna have to cut that off too. And then a whole lot of shit when down with the two alphas that chased us. And Ja… um, another werewolf got pretty cut up. And then I got to school and didn’t have time to talk to Scott.”

“…to Scott?” asked Danny vaguely, not entirely sure he’d followed Stiles’ story, but understanding that the scary hot guy from last fall wanted him dead.

“Yeah, um, Derek’s _kinda_ Scott’s alpha, but not quite, so Scott can, you know, do his own thing. So I, um,” Stiles broke eye contact, “I told Scott about Friday and, um, about kissing you?” Stiles squeaked slightly, coughed into his hand and kept talking, “and asked him to, you know, not let Derek kill you.”

“And?” Danny asked, bemused.

“And we’re safe. Well, mostly. I mean with werewolves around no one’s really safe, but we can totally talk in rooms with windows and, um,” Stiles blushed slightly, “date? Without fear of imminent death?” He blinked rapidly and lifted his eyes slowly back to Danny’s face.

Danny smiled, “So,” he asked, “no death?” Stiles nodded tentatively. “And no closets?” Stiles’ nod this time was more confident. “And you’re ok following me into M. Hubert’s room?”

Stiles looked confused, “but I don’t take French…”

Danny smiled, “It’s for the GSA meeting.”

“GSA?” Stiles asked.

Danny reached out and took his hand. “Gay-straight alliance,” he said and smiled as Stiles interlaced their fingers, “we’re finalising plans for the annual ACLU bake sale tomorrow.”

Stiles face broke into an enormous grin and he gripped Danny’s hand tighter. “Awesome! I love baked goods! Lead on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ GSA's](http://gsanetwork.org/) are amazing places for queer students and allies. Lots of school districts in the States - and lots of private schools - have protested their formation. They serve an incredibly important purpose in giving LGBT students a place to be themselves, a support network and the knowledge that they aren't alone and that they have allies among their straight classmates.
> 
> Beacon Hills may not have many problems with LGBT rights, but other places do. It can be almost impossibly hard to grow up queer in many small towns in the US. The [ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union)](http://www.aclu.org/lgbt-rights) has done some amazing work supporting gay students and expressions of support for LGBT rights in schools. They deserve a lot more than my fictional bake sale, if you're in a place to do so, consider sending a little money their way. In my headcanon Danny totally grows up to be a hard-as-nails, tenacious-as-a-pit-bull lawyer working for the ACLU.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> format might be a little screwed- posting this from my phone. will fix by Mon.
> 
> ETA: formatting fixed.

Stiles stood on a cheery Hawaiian print welcome mat in front of the dark brown door and tried not to fidget. His left arm was starting to go numb from the pressure of holding his ridiculously thick Chem textbook as well as his lab book and class notes, but he couldn’t switch arms because his right hand was already fully occupied holding onto a grocery bag full of baking ingredients.

He heard movement inside the house and his heart rate picked up. He gave up trying not to fidget. As the door swung open, he felt a blush climbing up his cheeks. A short woman stared back at him from the open door, narrowing her eyes slightly behind her glasses.

Danny hadn’t said anything about parents when he’d invited Stiles over.

 

Stiles had been a little awkward leaving the GSA meeting. I mean, what do you say to a guy who thinks you’re such a closet case he has to drag you to a gay support group but still wants to _maybe even go on a date_ with you? Do you kiss him in the hall? Grab his hand? Wink?

“See you in Chem?” Danny said, smiling at Stiles as the other GSA members wandered past.

“Chem,” said Stiles and he waved a little. _Ugh, Stilinski, waving? How elementary school can you be?_ Danny turned and started walking back towards the stairwell at the end of the hall. Stiles watched him walk away. He walked slowly, practically swaggering and Stiles found himself almost mesmerised by the way his ass undulated in his tight jeans. Danny looked over his shoulder slightly as he opened the door to the stairwell and something about the look on his face, the angle of his head _his ass in his jeans_ made Stiles start jogging down the hallway after him.

Stiles caught the door just as it was swinging shut and barrelled into the stairwell. “Hey, Danny!” he called up at the echoing footfalls, “hold up!”

“Stiles?” Danny’s voice drifted down to him and the footfalls stopped. Stiles galloped up to the first landing and towards Danny who was halfway to the second.

“What’s up?” Danny asked just as Stiles reached him. Stiles didn’t answer at first. He just wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist, stood up on his tip toes and pressed his lips firmly on Danny’s.

Danny seemed surprised at first, but quickly got up to speed. He wrapped his hands around Stiles’ shoulders pulling him close and ran his tongue along Stiles’ lower lip. Stiles moaned and Danny slipped his tongue between his open lips, stroking Stiles’ tongue before using his teeth to worry his lower lip.

The bell rang and they reluctantly pulled out of the kiss.

“What…?” Danny began, but was cut off by the sound of clanging doors and chattering teenagers as other students began pouring into the stairwell at all the landings. Stiles let go of Danny and turned to head down to the library for his study hall. He smiled over his shoulder and called back “I meant to say, I really like those jeans!” before letting the flow of students carry him away.

He spent the next three periods freaking out. Danny was the king of smooth, how on earth did Stiles think “I like your jeans” was in any way cool? He’d be mortified to be seen so close to Stiles. And what if someone on the team had seen them kissing? Danny’s rep would be ruined forever. He’d probably just start ignoring Stiles again. Chem would be long and awkward and interminable. At least it was nearly summer, Stiles could spend two months hiding from everyone he’d ever met and maybe Danny would talk to him again once or twice next year.

The little ball of hope that had been growing in Stiles’ belly was almost extinguished by the time he rushed—late because Derek didn’t believe in text messages and insisted on doing everything over the phone—into the chemistry lab and slid onto the tall lab stool next to Danny. Mr. Harris, already introducing the lab, didn’t stop talking, but he flared his nostrils slightly and shot angry glances at Stiles as he tried—and failed—to get his lab book out of his bag silently and without looking at Danny. The chair wobbled precariously as Stiles kept his head down and fought with his overstuffed backpack, but a strong hand planted itself on his right knee stabilising the chair. The seat beneath him was no longer rocking, but Stiles could still feel himself vibrating from the heat of Danny’s hand burning through his jeans and making the hairs on his arms and legs stand up.

Stiles finally got his lab book out and then looked up, almost shyly into Danny’s face afraid to see annoyance or exasperation in his dark eyes. Instead, Danny’s gaze was warm and he was smiling slightly. Stiles couldn’t help himself, he grinned back, relief sending a rush of adrenaline down his arms. The king of cool must be feeling pretty magnanimous.

They had been sitting at their bench watching their experiment titrate and hoping that it would work the first time when Danny shifted a little on his stool to face Stiles who had spent the last 30 minutes desperately trying to do chemistry while his lab partner’s muscular arms and shoulders kept moving into his field of vision. Now Danny’s legs were spread, jeans pulled tight over his hips and Stiles’ mouth went totally dry. He fought to bring his eyes up to meet Danny’s.

Danny smiled slightly, clearly amused and Stiles guessed he must be blushing. “Um, hi.” He said, trying to push The Awkward away with words.

Danny made a noise in his throat then said casually, “So, I have to make a bunch of things for the bake sale tomorrow, do you want to come over and help? We can study for our Chem final while it cooks.”

Stiles blinked, grinned and said “Sure! I would love to come over and help and, um, study! I am an awesome cook! What can I bring?”

Danny snickered a little at his enthusiasm and Stiles felt the blush creep up his neck again, “I think we’re out of eggs and, um, butter? I have lots of other homework so maybe sixish?”

“Yes! Six is great! I can do six!” Stiles felt his arm gestures increasing in amplitude as his excitement grew and wasn’t terribly surprised when he brushed against something on the lab bench that immediately went flying into the air. He turned his head and watched as his lab book and three ball point pens showered down around the heads of two of their classmates. Danny started laughing and Stiles smiled sheepishly up at him before sliding off his stool to go pick his stuff up off the floor. Danny’s laughter continued on and off for the rest of Chem.

 

“Um,” Stiles began, “Hey, Mrs. Mahealani. I’m here to see Danny. To, um, help bake?” He lifted his right hand slightly to show her the bag. For several moments, Danny’s mom just looked at him, showing no sign of moving aside and letting him in.

“Hmmm. Stiles, right?” Stiles nodded, “Come in, Danny’s in the kitchen. Are you staying for dinner?”

It wasn’t the warmest welcome Stiles had ever had and he wasn’t sure what to respond. He opened his mouth in hopes something useful would come out, but was saved by Danny’s voice echoing from another room, “Yeah, mom! I’ll make something. Don’t worry.”

Mrs. Mahealani, lifted her eyebrows slightly and made a small “hmm” noise to herself before pointing Stiles around the corner and down the hall to the kitchen. Stiles wandered in the direction she was pointing, pausing to set the chemistry textbook and his notes down on the kitchen table.

“Hey, um, Danny,” Stiles stuttered slightly as the tall and deeply sexy king of cool turned to face him, revealing the naked torso of Michelangelo’s David printed onto a white apron.

“Hey! Have you got eggs and butter?” Stiles smiled at the apron, relaxing slightly faced with its silliness, and took the last few steps towards Danny with the grocery bag.

“So, um, you didn’t say what you wanted, so I, well, got maybe more than necessary?” Stiles started blushing slightly as Danny looked into the bag and whistled. He reached into it and pulled out a 24-pack of eggs and one of the three boxes of butter.

“I guess it’s omelettes for dinner. That ok?”

“Yeah! Yes! Pmelettes are great! So… what are we baking? Is your mom helping?” Stiles felt his heart rate jump a little as he asked this question, not sure how Danny expected him to act around his parents.

“What? No? Mom…” Danny began, but was interrupted by his mother walking into the kitchen mid-sentence.

“…staying at Aunt Mary’s tonight. Don’t forget the rules, your friend needs to be gone by 11.”

“Yes, mom,” Danny responded, “I know where the emergency numbers are, I won’t burn the house down and Stiles is the sheriff’s kid so the police will definitely answer if we call. Tell J to break a leg, ok?”

“Ok, honey, I’m off,” she stood on her tip toes and planted a kiss on Danny’s cheek, then turned to face Stiles. “Have fun, Stiles,” she said with considerably less warmth, “don’t eat any cake.” Then she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Stiles turned to Danny, “Where’s she going? And cake?” he asked, “what’s that about?”

“Oh, my sister’s youth orchestra is performing tonight down at the coast. It’ll finish really late and my mom’s sister lives near there, so they’re staying at hers. You really don’t remember the cake incident?” Danny asked, grinning. Stiles shook his head slightly feeling confused. “My eighth birthday party,” Danny prompted, “all that confetti cake?” Stiles’ eyes widened slightly as the memory started to come back.

“I got a little sick, didn’t I?”

Danny snorted, “a little sick? You projectile vomited confetti cake all over the bathroom and den! My mom had to get new wallpaper!”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and blushed, “Er… sorry?”

“I’m sure you won’t do it again. We’re not making confetti cake anyways, and I won’t let you eat what we are making because they’re for the bake sale,” Danny said. He reached out and wrapped his left hand around Stiles’ right bicep. “Come on,” he said, pulling slightly, “we need to get you an apron.” Stiles took a step forward and Danny loosened his grip, trailing his fingers down Stiles’ right arm and curling them around Stiles’ hand.

Hand in hand, Stiles followed Danny into the small cupboard in the far corner of the kitchen. It was dark and smelled slightly of vinegar. Shuffling close to Danny in the tight space, Stiles felt the heat of the taller boy’s body pressing against his own. He felt his breathing speed up and knew his cheeks were flushed red again.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something sexy and was appalled when the words that tumbled out were, “I thought you said no more closets?”

Danny snorted again, “Stiles, this is a kitchen cupboard. Totally different. Also, we’re only here to get you an apron…” Danny’s voice trailed off. He dropped Stiles hand and shifted until he was facing the back of the cupboard, his long back and perfect ass facing Stiles. “Ah! Here…” He muttered to himself and bent forward slightly, his jeans pulling even more tightly across his ass. Stiles licked his lips and shifted slightly trying not to stare. Before he could do something embarrassing, Danny straightened up, turned around and unceremoniously dumped an apron over Stiles head. He grabbed Stiles’ shoulders spun him around and quickly tied the apron behind his back before shoving the shorter boy slightly towards the open door. “Come on, time to make coconut bars!”

Stiles stumbled out into the brightly lit kitchen and looked down. The apron was electric pink with big loopy printing across the front declaring him the ‘Kitchen Bitch.’ For two seconds he tried to be offended, then he started giggling. Behind him he heard Danny laughing too and he felt the last bit of tension melt out of him. Maybe the king of cool kind of liked him nerdy.

Stiles spun back around, hands on hips and pelvis thrust forward in the best supermodel pose he could muster, “So, how do I look? What now?”

“You look…” Danny started speaking between laughs, before pausing to catch his breath, “…simply radiant, darling! Now, I want you to take one of those bowls,” he gestured, “and mix together two sticks of butter and a half cup of sugar.”

The model pose seemed to work, so Stiles risked responding to these instructions, “so, what you’re saying is, you want me to _cream your butter_ right here in the kitchen?”

Danny’s face broke into a wide smile. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. And after that, you can _toast my nuts_.”

Stiles grinned madly up at Danny, “yes, sir!” he said, sketching a mock salute.

“Also,” Danny added, growing a bit more serious, “you can tell me about werewolves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hawaiian Coconut Macadamia Bars](http://malikalasonokinegrinds.blogspot.com.au/2012/08/coconut-macadamia-nut-bars.html). Try them. Toast the macadamia nuts first. OMFG.


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops it got a little longer (again) so 9 chapters not 8. Thanks for following along though and I promise Chp 9 is mostly smut and has a happy ending.

“Werewolves?” Stiles squeaked, “Um,” coughing slightly to bring his voice back into a normal register, “what about werewolves?”

Stiles knew he must look even more ridiculous than normal flailing, squeaking and wearing a bright pink apron, but Danny wasn’t laughing anymore. In fact, those dark brown eyes just watched him impassively, Danny’s hands were on his hips and his mouth quirked in a way that Stiles knew meant he was emphatically not amused.

“If we’re going to spend time together, you know as friends or…whatever…I want to believe the things you tell me,” Danny explained with a bit of a sigh. The o _r whatever_ hung in the air between them for a moment. Danny let his hands drop to his sides and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I just… there’s been some weird shit going on all year. And I know, _I know_ , Jackson’s involved somehow…and Jackson’s been my best friend since we were like six!” Danny paused, clearly calming himself down.

Stiles watched his breathing slow and though _I wonder if I can learn how to do that_? Danny fixed his eyes on Stiles’ and continued, “anyhow, you started telling me things on Friday before we got… distracted, and I know if I keep you in this house much longer I’ll get…distracted… again, so I thought this is when you need to tell me everything when we’re, you know, busy making coconut bars. But you do need to tell me everything.” He stopped himself talking and kept his eyes on Stiles.

Stiles ran through the options in his head. _If I tell him everything, Derek really will murder us both. If I tell him nothing, I might as well cut my own dick off for all the use it’ll get. What can I say without getting either of us killed or maimed?_ He shut his eyes thinking through various permutations of the truth, before hitting on exactly what he should say.

“Okay,” said Stiles. “Werewolves. So, I can’t tell you everything,” he put a hand up to stop Danny interrupting, “because I don’t know everything and some of what I know Derek really would murder us both if I told you, and, wow, maybe let his pack chew on the bits that are left; but I’ll do my best and answer your questions as fully as I can. I promise what I say is the truth. Is that enough?” Stiles held his breath.

“Yeah,” Danny said, nodding, “That’s fair, for now. Start with Jackson. Also, get creaming! We have five trays of coconut bars to make!”

Stiles let out the breath he’d been holding and reached for the butter. “So, Jackson. Jackson came into all this a little late,” he started.

 

Stiles was elbow-deep in lukewarm soapy water when the oven timer went off. Danny’s chair squeaked a little on the linoleum floor as he pushed it back to get the last tray of coconut bars out of the oven. Stiles’ back was to the oven, but he felt the heat whoosh out as Danny opened it and all the hairs on his arms stood on end as Danny walked past him to put the hot tray down on counter. Stiles gently placed the glass bowl he’d been scrubbing in the drying rack, pulled out the plug to empty the sink and turned to watch Danny as he delicately cut the tray of sugary coconut-macadamia amazingness into even, little squares.

_Now or never, Stilinski_ , he said to himself, feeling the adrenaline make his fingers tingle. He flexed his hands, cleared his throat and said, “This counts, right?”

Danny paused and looked up, knife still embedded in the tray of hot coconut bars, “Counts?”

“Counts, you know, as a date?” Stiles squeaked before rushing on, letting his words tumble out all over each other because he was afraid what Danny might respond. “Because, like, we’ve been sitting here for almost, yikes, three hours baking and talking and we even studied. Study dates are totally a thing. Also, you made me dinner. And it was omelettes! Who doesn’t like omelettes? So I think this totally counts…”

Danny made a noise in his throat and kept cutting coconut squares, so Stiles just plowed on. “And if it counts, then seriously, all first dates need some kissing. I think it’s totally time for kissing. I mean you can’t just waltz around baking in jeans that tight and make me dinner and expect me not to kiss you because, seriously, logic!”

Danny was leaning against the counter, knife set aside, just watching what Stiles knew, deep in his bones, was the most undignified flailing his traitorous body could muster. Stiles bit his lower lip to keep the words inside and focussed on bringing his arms back down to his sides. Danny’s face contorted in ways that looked incredibly painful, until he finally just let go and grinned.

“Yeah, okay, this counts.” Stiles went utterly still, as Danny smiled slightly before added, “But, dude, I can’t make out with a guy in a hot pink apron and yellow rubber gloves. You are not nearly twinky enough for me to get into that kinda shit.”

Stiles looked down at the dishwashing gloves he was still wearing, and let a smile quirk up one corner of his mouth, “Okay, that’s fair. Guess I should wait ‘til the third date to get kinky.” He stripped the gloves off and draped them over the edge of the sink before reaching behind him to undo the apron. He could feel the knot, but his fingers couldn’t find the free end. He tried turning slightly, but found himself turning in circles as Danny dissolved in laughter.

“Jeez, Stiles! You’re like a dog chasing its tail. The apron isn’t going anywhere.”

Stiles felt a blush creeping up his neck and looked down, refusing to make eye-contact, “Come on, Danny,” he whined slightly, “Don’t just laugh at me! Help me escape. I think this apron wants to mate with me!”

“Aw! We can’t have that, now can we?” Danny asked slyly, moving towards Stiles and reaching out his arms to still Stiles’ flailing. He spun Stiles around so he was facing the wall and began pulling at the knots. “I don’t really like the idea of sloppy seconds.” He said quietly, his warm breath setting the hairs on Stiles’ neck on end. Stiles felt the blush climb up into his cheeks and a matching heat sprang to life in his belly.

“There,” and the apron strings fell to his sides. Danny’s fingers slid under the neck strap and brushed the back of Stiles’ head as he gently lifted the apron off, “Your virtue is safe.” He dropped the apron on the counter by the sink and used his other hand to grab Stiles’ upper arm and turn him around, “What’s my reward?”

Stiles wished he were smooth enough to come up with some witty response – something that made Danny laugh with him, not at him. Instead, he just stepped forward right into Danny’s personal space, wrapped his arms around Danny’s neck and kissed him hard. Danny didn’t seem to mind. His arms encircled Stiles’ waist and pulled him even closer. He opened his lips slightly and Stiles took that as approval and slid his tongue out and along Danny’s lips. Stiles’ shivered all over as Danny’s tongue brushed his, but he tilted his head a bit more and opened his lips a little wider. It was wet and messy and Danny was sucking on his tongue and _daaammnn_ Stiles thought to himself, _the internet wasn’t lying_.

He moaned into Danny’s mouth and squirmed slightly trying to press against all of Danny’s firm, strong body at once. His jeans, already the tightest pair he owned, were feeling even tighter. Danny’s right hand was stroking his back, rucking up his teeshirts and trying to get to his skin. _Skin!_ Stiles thought, _genius!_ He dropped his hands from Danny’s neck and slipped them under the hem of Danny’s tight teeshirt. Danny’s skin was hot and smooth. Everywhere Stiles’ fingers touched it was like little sparks of static electricity went off. He slid his hands up Danny’s sides, pushing up Danny’s teeshirt as he went.

Danny leaned back slightly, breathing hard and trying to make eye contact. “Stiles,” he half panted, “First dates are usually no tongue and some hand holding.”

Stiles froze, just for a second, before he recognised the glimmer in Danny’s eye. _Him and his stupid dry wit_. Sometime when Stiles wasn’t ridiculously hard and trapped in his jeans he was going to find Danny a verbal equivalent for a winky face. This boy needed portable emoticons. Now though, was not a time for words or, ugh, thought. “Shirt. Off.” He ordered pushing his hands farther up Danny’s sides, fingernails grazing his ribs.

Danny laughed a little and pulled Stiles tighter in to him, tugging at the back of his layered teeshirts. “You have to shed some skin too, you know. It’s only fair. But can we move this upstairs? You’re kinda accident prone and there are a lot of sharp things here…”

Stiles’ heart hammered in his chest, “Yes! Upstairs. Good!” He spun around and started marching purposefully out of the kitchen.

“Stiles!” called Danny, “Slow down, the stairs are left not right!”

Stiles stuttered to a halt and turned back towards Danny, narrowly avoiding the doorframe as he did so. He grinned, somewhat abashedly feeling yet another blush work its way up his cheeks, “Right, your house. I’ll follow you.”

Danny just smiled back and reached out his right arm to take Stiles’ hand in his. “This way, spaz. I’ll hold on to you so you don’t walk into anything else!” The words were sharp, but his smile was warm, and Stiles squeezed his fingers in reply.

Danny pulled him left down the hall, up a flight of wooden stairs and around the corner into his distressingly neat bedroom. They were almost running by the time they got there, and Stiles felt like he was having a little flash back to Friday’s mad dash away from the alphas – except this time he wasn’t running from something he was running towards it and the adrenaline in his system was from arousal rather than fear. _Well, 70% arousal_ , some of it, Stiles knew, was nerves, _this is kind of a big fucking deal!_


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least 84% smut.

Danny let go of Stiles’ hand to close the bedroom door and Stiles took the opportunity to look around and catch his breath. Danny’s room wasn’t just neat, it was ordered. Clearly, Danny was the kind of guy who didn’t need his dad to bribe him into cleaning once a month. There were even vacuum trails on the pale, grey carpet. Stiles felt a tendril of panic unfurl in his gut, Danny was so obviously out of his league, what on earth was he even doing there. _He was totally going to snap out of it and realise that spazzy, flaily Stiles…_

Before Stiles could finish this thought, Danny was back in front of him bare chested and tugging on Stiles’ shirt. “Why do you wear so many clothes?” He grunted in mock annoyance, chucking Stiles’ long-sleeved tee in the same direction as the short sleeved one he’d just gotten off. “Fuck, an undershirt too?”

As Danny pulled at the thin cotton, Stiles squirmed under his hands, wiggling out of the undershirt “It helps preserve the mystery,” he laughed.

“The mystery? I mean, yeah,” Danny rested his hands on Stiles shoulders and leaned back, looking Stiles up and down, “You’ve got a lot more muscles stashed away there than most of our classmates would guess.” His eyes caught on Stiles’ flat stomach. The muscles quivering under his skin weren’t quite a six-pack, but they weren’t far off. Stiles took a small step forward and Danny shut his eyes as a hand gently stroked across his chest. Fingers trailed across his nipple, sending a jolt of fire through Danny and forcing a small gasp out from between his lips.

“Keeping up with werewolves, it gets you in shape,” Stiles said quietly, and took another step closer to Danny. Danny shivered as Stiles’ hands shifted to his hips. Stiles pushed a little and Danny followed his lead, walking backwards slowly until he felt the edge of the mattress against the back of his thighs. Before Stiles could push him – or worse – stop, Danny sat down, spreading his thighs a little to let Stiles crowd closer.

Stiles ran his hands over Danny’s face and tangled his fingers in his hair. “You are so hot, King of Cool.” he sighed, “What the hell are you doing here with me?”

Danny reached out and wrapped his arms around Stiles, he spread his fingers across Stiles’ ass and squeezed. “I think that’s pretty obvious,” he said. Stiles gasped a little then bent forward and kissed him, mouth open. Their teeth clacked together and Stiles winced, but Danny just squeezed his ass tighter and pulled him close. Stiles felt a little strange leaning down to kiss Danny, but the breathy noises Danny made as their tongues twined together set him at ease.

As they kissed, Stiles kept his right hand in Danny’s hair while his left traced the long curve of Danny’s neck. He ran his fingernails around the shell of Danny’s ear, making Danny gasp into his mouth.

Abruptly, Danny let go of Stiles’ ass and Stiles almost fell forwards at the sudden lack of support. Danny caught him by the belt loop and Stiles moaned as one of Danny’s hands pressed against his erection. The hand moved against the front of Stiles’ jeans and Stiles moaned again as he figured out what Danny was doing.

Danny kept kissing Stiles as he undid the top button his jeans. He could feel Stiles’ cock, hot and hard under the soft denim, and he paused to stroke it before getting a grip on the zipper. Stiles broke off kissing Danny and gulped a ragged breath.

Danny froze, zipper half opened and looked up, “This okay?” he asked. _Too fast, Mahealani_! He berated himself and tried to talk his hands into moving to less sensitive _less interesting_ territory.

Before he could move, Stiles nodded; so Danny started tugging gently at the zipper again. Stiles shivered a little and stepped backwards, squirming out of jeans which were clearly tighter than he was used to wearing.

When he looked up again, Danny was undoing his own jeans, leaning back a little on the bed to make it easier to wiggle out of the skin-tight charcoal-grey denim. Jeans around his ankles, Stiles’ eyes locked onto Danny’s lap where his erection made clear that this wasn’t some sort of insane joke. All Stiles could think was how badly he wanted to see Danny’s cock, touch Danny’s cock, maybe even taste Danny’s cock. He stepped out of his jeans, toeing off his socks in the process and slid to his knees next to the bed. He was still between Danny’s legs, but the taller boy had shifted back slightly while undressing.

Stiles reached forward and wrapped his hands around Danny’s hips, pulling him back to the edge of the mattress, then paused. Danny’s head was thrown back and his eyes mostly shut. “Can I?” asked Stiles.

Danny made another of those noises in his throat like he had just drunk the tastiest hot chocolate ever made. “Be my guest,” he breathed out.

Danny tried not to moan as Stiles’ strong hands pulled at his hips. This was not at all what Danny had expected. _Not quite the blushing virgin, then_. Danny slit his eyes open to watch as Stiles leaned forward and kissed the centre of Danny’s chest, then shifted to lick a small row of kisses towards his right nipple which he bit gently. Danny felt the kisses like a line of fire across his body. His hips hitched upward slightly under Stiles’ hands and his thighs came together to press against Stiles’ torso. Danny gasped as his cock brushed against Stiles’ stomach, creating hot friction where his black cotton boxer-briefs touched the other boy’s skin.

Stiles started kissing down Danny’s belly, leaving a shining wet trail to mark his progress. Danny kept his eyes shut, moaning quietly, but lifted his hips to help when Stiles got his fingers under the edge of his boxer-briefs and tugged gently. Stiles was almost overwhelmed by the feel of Danny’s heat beneath his lips and the slightly salty taste of his skin each time Stiles flicked out his tongue. He focussed tightly, _one kiss at a time, don’t bite too hard, get his underwear past his ankles_ to keep from leaning reaching down and getting himself off right there. Or from running away, because just a little further down ( _five more kisses – ten maybe?_ ), Danny’s dick was erect and twitching slightly.

Stiles placed one hand gently on Danny’s balls and stroked them. Danny couldn’t hold in a low moan, and he gasped “Yeah, like that...” at Stiles. Stiles squeezed a little, making Danny shudder against him, before shifting his hand to Danny’s cock. His skin was hot and it took all Danny’s will power to keep from thrusting up hard into the ring made by his long fingers.

Stiles sat back on his heels and looked at how Danny’s cock seemed to follow his fingers as he stroked it gently. It was thicker than Stiles’, but not as long and it curved slightly to the right. Danny moaned impatiently, “Stroke it for real, Stiles” so Stiles did, tightening his grip and speeding up his motions. Danny made a noise like paper tearing and birds singing all at once.

The noise made Stiles own dick jump. He leaned forward, totally entranced by the darkly engorged head of Danny’s cock and, as he stroked upwards, he swiped his tongue across the tip. “Shit, yeah” Danny said, voice cracking as he put his right hand on the side of Stiles’ head and started stroking, “God, please use your mouth.”

Part of Stiles, the same part that still voted to hide under the sofa each time Scott shifted, still wanted to bolt, but the majority clamoured for more. Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect as he leaned further into Danny’s lap and wrapped his mouth around Danny’s cock.

Danny pinched his eyes shut as his world went a little white. _Hot hot wet suction. Oh god and his tongue_. He gritted his teeth and fought for control. _Coach Finstock in a tutu! Coach Finstock in a tutu!_ Stiles’ movements were slow, jerky, a bit tentative but the heat of his mouth and the hand still tightly wrapped around Danny’s hip were enough to force another, ragged moan from between his lips.

Stiles pulled back a little and focussed on sucking and licking at the tip of Danny’s cock. His right hand kept sliding up and down Danny’s spit-slick shaft and he felt like he finally had some sort of rhythm going. Danny’s cock twitched slightly between his lips and then Danny moaned again, “God, Stiles, more! Jack yourself.”

Stiles flushed hot and tingling. His hips had been bucking in sympathy every time Danny moaned and he was sure Danny could feel it. He pulled back and opened his mouth to apologise, but Danny’s hand tightened in his hair, “Oh God, Don’t stop. Close!” Stiles wrapped his lips around Danny’s cock again and flicked his tongue at the slit, tasting salt and sweat and Danny. He let go of Danny’s hip and wrapped his left hand around his own cock and started stroking with the same rhythm he was using on Danny.

Stiles moaned, sending shivers shooting up Danny’s cock and down his thighs. He felt Stiles vibrating as he jacked himself, fingers twitching as they kept stroking Danny’s shaft. Danny knotted one hand in the sheets to keep from yanking on Stiles’ hair and let a small river of words pour out of his mouth, “Oh god, Stiles. More. Oh! Your fucking mouth. So hot. Keep jacking yourself. Oh god. Fuck. Make yourself come with my dick in your mouth. Oh!”

Stiles’ suddenly pulled back off Danny’s dick, his whole body shaking and keened, “Fuck! Danny! Fuck!” Danny watched through slitted eyes as Stiles threw his head back and came in white spurts on his hand and stomach. Danny’s balls tightened at the sight and he thrust upward into the hand still wrapped loosely around his cock. Feeling him moving, Stiles tighten his grip and leaned forward again to swallow Danny down. Danny felt his tongue moving wet and enthusiastic around and around the head of his cock and he just gave up all hope of control. He thrust up into Stiles’ mouth hearing and feeling Stiles’ moan. On the third thrust, a wave of white fire rolled from his toes to his skull and out his cock while fireworks lit up the darkness behind his closed eyelids.

Stiles had expected not to like the whole swallowing thing, but the feel of Danny shooting in his mouth and the salty-bitter taste against his tongue was so hot that he guessed he would have come from that if he hadn’t just climaxed 30 seconds earlier.

“Come up here,” Danny moaned breathily, weakly pulling at Stiles’ shoulder. He shifted back on the bed making room for Stiles who crawled shakily onto the mattress next to him and leaned his forehead against Danny’s while their legs tangled together. Danny reached out a hand and gently touched Stiles’ cock and the streak of come in the brown curls on his stomach. As Stiles watched, he lifted his newly sticky fingers to his lips and licked them clean. Then he reached up and stroked Stiles hair. He smiled because maybe he had just figured out what no teacher, classmate or parent ever had: how to silence Stiles Stilinski.

“Fuck, Danny.” Stiles said, his voice slightly ragged.

 _Or not._ Danny smiled, “Not tonight, Stiles,” he winked, “but gimme half an hour and I’ll introduce your dick to the famous Mahealani blow job.” Stiles just blinked at him, somewhat dazed, “I mean, I’m not supposed to kick you out until 11 and it’s only, like, 9.30 so...”

 

The sun was just creeping over the gym roof when Danny arrived at school the next morning. The parking lot was nearly empty except for one or two teachers’ cars and a large, pale blue jeep parked dead centre. Stiles was leaning against it clearly trying to be cool, but too twitchy and nervous to carry it off. Danny pulled up next to him and, grinning, hopped out of his shitty Honda to press up against Stiles, trapping him between Danny’s hips and the jeep.

“Good morning,” he murmured as he leaned in for a kiss, “sleep well?”

Stiles made a small noise in his throat as Danny kissed him. Then, eyes darting all over, “I, um, actually, well, I mean...”

“Spit it out, Stiles!”

Stiles did, in one long breath, the words all merging together, “After, um, you know, last night when I went home I, well, I was a little, um, hyper? So I baked a bunch of cookies and a banana bread because everyone likes banana bread – only not with walnuts, because nut allergies! – I mean for the bake sale! I baked tasty tasty baked goods for the bake sale. If you, um, want them?” he finished on a squeak.

Danny smiled broadly as he leaned back and saw Stiles, red from the tips of his ears down his neck and under his teeshirt. “Thanks, Stiles. That was...” he paused, eyes stuck trying to make sense of the picture on Stiles’ shirt. “Um, what? Are you wearing?”

Danny expected Stiles to blush again, instead he just grinned, “You know how you told me all you guys have special teeshirts for the GSA?” Danny nodded, “and there were no extras for new members?” Danny opened his mouth to apologise again, but Stiles barrelled on cutting him off, “I thought this was probably the gayest shirt I own.”

“The gayest...?”

Stiles snorted. “Don’t pretend you don’t recognise it, Danny! You’re a hacker king, you probably have at least 15 different ‘nyms on Reddit!”

“I, uh... It’s certainly... eye catching, Stiles. I don’t think I’ve seen it on a teeshirt before though.”

“Well now you have,” said Stiles smugly. He started wiggling against Danny’s hips, “now let me go – there’s this super sexy guy who said he’d be my boyfriend if I helped set up his bake sale!”

“ _Set up his bake sale_ , a likely story,” Danny smirked as he stepped back.

“I know, right?” laughed Stiles, his arms suddenly full of Tupperware, “But he’s just a sweet nerd deep down, I’m sure my virtue is safe with him.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning back at Stiles as they walked side by side towards the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image on Stiles' shirt: [Obama riding a unicorn with rainbows shooting from his palms](http://slacktory.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Obama-on-a-unicorn-1.jpg). It's pretty gay as shirts go (in the best of all possible ways).
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> **The end**
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> Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. This was really fun to work on - it's been a crazy couple of months and having a bit of porn to write as displacement has been aces. Hope you enjoyed!


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